


Hate To Love You

by thegirlonpeetamellark



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-18
Updated: 2014-04-16
Packaged: 2018-01-16 04:12:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1331473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirlonpeetamellark/pseuds/thegirlonpeetamellark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Tumblr 'Prompts in Panem' 7 Day Challenge: Cruelty. “Why the hell would you want to talk to me?” I ask. “We’re not friends. Not even close. Especially after what you did to Madge.” “We could be friends though,” he offers, a dangerous glint to his eyes, as he looks me over. “We could get to know each other.” Something about the way he says that makes me shiver.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Oh. Fuck.

I turn away from the blue eyes of Peeta Mellark and cringe, hoping he didn’t see me across the bar. I’ve had the worst fucking week at work and the last thing I need is running into my best friend’s asshole of an ex-boyfriend. 

Peeta Mellark is an arrogant douchebag.

He’s also really fucking hot. But that’s beside the point. 

I make my way back towards the table where Johanna is waiting for me. I tell her who I just saw, and her eyes go wide in shock.

“He’s here?” 

I nod my head in the direction across the bar, where I saw him. “I thought he moved back home for a while after he and Madge broke up, but apparently he’s back.”

“Guess so,” Johanna shrugs as she downs her gin and tonic.

I catch up and finish about half of my third rum and Coke, pushing me into the definitely drunk territory.

“That fucking asshole. I should go tell him what I think of him,” I say, scanning my eyes across the bar in search of the blond hair and blue eyes in question.

“Like he’d give a fuck,” Johanna scoffs. “Dude probably has no short supply of pussy to ravage.” 

My thighs clench just a little at the image of Peeta Mellark going to town on a pussy, and I slap away the guilt by reasoning with myself that I’m pretty damn drunk. He is hot. Unfortunately him being an asshole can’t really erase that fact.

“I’ve heard things about that man’s cock…” Johanna hums dreamily, and I look over at her in shock.

“What?” she protests. “It was before they broke up obviously. You get a couple drinks in Madge and she’ll spill anything. She gave him very high marks.”

I roll my eyes but secretly let myself fantasize for a moment or two. So he’s a good-looking asshole who is also great in bed. What a shock. 

It doesn’t matter though. This bit of information just makes me hate him even more. 

Johanna stands up out of nowhere, shaking her hair out. “I want to dance. You down?”

I shake my head and lean back in the small booth, not really in the mood to bump and grind tonight.

She disappears into the crowd of people without another word and makes her way to the far corner of the bar where a cluster of people are packed tightly together, moving to the beat of the music.

I don’t even have a chance to take a deep breath before someone slides into the empty seat across from me.

Peeta Mellark.

My mouth hangs open in shock, stunned that he would have the nerve to just ambush me like this.

“Hey you,” he grins at me like we’re actually friends, leaning across the table so I can see his tanned, muscular forearms and his navy blue shirt stretch across his broad shoulders.

“What do you want?” I try for the coldest, bitchiest tone I can muster.

“To talk to you obviously,” he laughs, leaning back now against the booth, stretching his arm across the back of the seat, looking poised and relaxed.

“Why the hell would you want to talk to me?” I ask. “We’re not friends. Not even close. Especially after what you did to Madge.”

There is a brief flash of something I can’t quite identify across his face, but it’s gone as soon as it appears. His expression melts back into that flippant, self-assured, asshole persona he does so well. 

“We could be friends though,” he offers, a dangerous glint to his eyes, as he looks me over. “We could get to know each other.”

Something about the way he says that makes me shiver in anticipation. There’s a heat to his gaze that unnerves me, makes me think there is something raw and feral and completely unexpected behind those blue eyes.

I moved to town only about three weeks before he and Madge broke up so I’m not technically lying when I say we’re not friends. He might have dated my best friend for almost a year, but I only really met him when I moved here right before things ended between them. Then he moved back home and Madge moved across the country for grad school. That was six months ago.

“Why would I want to have anything to do with you?” I ask. “You cheated on my best friend.”

He clenches his jaw and looks away from me, seeming to debate something in his head for a long moment. When he looks back at me, his easy-going smile has returned and he looks me up and down, making no attempt to hide his appraisal. 

“You look really good tonight, Katniss. Really good,” he laughs, covering his face. “Fuck, I saw you in those heels across the bar and…damn.”

I curse myself when heat rushes to my cheeks, praying the dim lighting hides my blush. I’m having an internal debate, struggling between the horny female side of me that is eating up these compliments from an attractive man with glee, and the strong-willed, feminist best friend in me that is stubbornly clinging to my love and loyalty to Madge.

I cross my arms in front of my chest and look away, determined not to let him know he has any effect on me. 

“Look…is the way things ended between Madge and me the only thing keeping you from wanting to get to know me better?” He raises his eyebrows slightly towards the end of the sentence, leaving no doubt what he means by ‘getting to know him better.’ 

I gawk at the fucking nerve of this guy.

“What the hell do you mean the only thing? How can you sit there and act like cheating on a girl who your were in a serious relationship with—who was freaking in love with you!—is not a big deal?”

“I never said that,” he replies calmly. “I asked if it was the only thing keeping you from maybe not hating my guts.”

I stare back at him in confusion, trying to figure out where he’s going with this. I consider his question. 

“I find your whole personality pretty off-putting if I’m going to be completely honest,” I say, wanting to put him in his place. “It’s the cheating thing obviously. But you also just come across as arrogant and lascivious. It makes me uncomfortable.”

He throws his head back and laughs, a deep rumbling sound from his belly and a smile that lights up his whole face. When he looks back at me his eyes are sparkling with amusement.

“Sounds like someone is uncomfortable with their sexuality.”

My mouth hangs open in shock. “What? No I’m not! You’re—Just because I’m not attracted to you!” I splutter out indignantly, but my cheeks flame on the last few words as the bold-faced lie slips out of my mouth.

“It’s alright darling, I have that effect on a lot of women.”

I scowl at him, my anger returning in full force. “Well, good for you. Why don’t you go try putting the moves on one of them then,” I gesture to the crowd of people around us, “because I’m definitely not interested.” I look him dead in the eyes. “Especially not in a guy that would cheat on a woman, my best friend or not. It just shows what kind of man you really are.”

The stupid little smirk falls from his face.

“I didn’t cheat on Madge.” 

His face goes so solemn and serious that it takes me off guard. I study him carefully, looking for any signs that he’s lying, but I see nothing but sincerity.

I open my mouth to say something, but he cuts me off.

“You don’t have to believe me. You probably won’t. But on the off chance that you do…and the off chance that it might make you…you know, not hate me anymore…I figured you should know. I never cheated on her. I would never do that. I’m a coward, but I’m not that big of an asshole.”

“And I’m supposed to buy that?”

“I said I didn’t expect you to.” He laughs and shakes his head. “Look, you want the truth, I told her there was someone else and she jumped to conclusions. I just never bothered to correct her. It was over between us anyways. You can ask her if you don’t believe me.”

He stands up from the table and comes over to my side of the booth, leaning down so his mouth is right next to my ear. He pushes some strands of hair away so I can feel his hot breath on my skin and rests his other hand on my thigh. My body goes rigid with anticipation; awareness of how close he is floods me with warmth.

“Maybe knowing that I’m not the asshole you thought I was will ease your guilt for wanting me so bad, sweetheart,” he whispers into my ear with a small laugh. “And don’t worry. I want you just as bad. More even.” He squeezes my thigh and then pulls away, turning and walking away before my body can stop tingling from his touch. 

X

I do some investigating.

I send Madge an e-mail asking how she likes grad school and her new city. And I also casually mention running into her douchebag ex, making sure she knows I told him off, but prying for a bit more information too. 

I never really got the whole story from her. She was already planning on leaving for grad school before the break-up and knowing that he cheated on her was really all the information I needed at the time. I helped her pack, and then we devoured pints of ice cream while watching chick flicks together until she felt better.

Her response throws me for a bit of a loop because it seems to suggest two things that I’m not quite sure how to handle: that Peeta Mellark is not a total piece of shit, and that he might even be telling the truth about not cheating on Madge.

Okay so I may have been really hard on him when it happened, but I appreciate your loyalty anyways! Haha I was just super into him and then out of nowhere he’s telling me there’s someone else. I guess I never really knew for sure if he acted on it, but I just assumed since he never said anything to defend himself. Whatever, I’m over it. He actually sent me an e-mail a few weeks ago apologizing again. I’m not about to be his friend, but I don’t hate him as much anymore lol.

I consider that he actually never did say anything about cheating to Madge specifically and that he even e-mailed her later to apologize. It certainly seems possible that he’s telling the truth. 

I push it from my mind, deciding I’m not going to try and figure out the inner workings of Peeta Mellark’s mind. I meant what I told him at the bar the other night. Even if he really didn’t cheat on Madge, I can’t stand the guy. He makes me uncomfortable and I’m sure he’s just looking for a quick fuck, which I’m not entirely opposed to—when the guy isn’t a huge douchebag.

It’s Sunday night so I decide I should throw some clothes in the washer. I gather my hamper and make my way to the bottom floor of my apartment building. As I start sorting the mountain of clothes into separate piles I realize I should have done this a lot sooner. I’m wearing the only clean clothes I have left: a pair of shorts that barely cover my ass and a stretchy tank top without a bra. 

“Well, if this isn’t the best damn thing I’ve seen all day.”

I freeze at the sound of that voice and cringe, realizing I’m bent over, stuffing clothes in the washer and probably exposing half my ass.

I stand and turn to find Peeta Mellark holding his own bag of clothes over his shoulder, wearing athletic shorts and a plain white t-shirt. He’s smirking at me, cocky and infuriating as ever.

“What the hell are you doing here?” 

“Thought this was the laundry room for the building,” he explains, walking up to the washer beside me and throwing his bag down. “I was under the impression anyone who lives here could use it.”

My jaw drops as I stare at him incredulously. I tell myself the way my heart starts to speed up is solely out of irritation.

“You’re fucking kidding, right?”

“Unfortunately not,” he grins, dropping all his clothes into the washer next to me and adding detergent. “We’re neighbors now,” he smiles happily, “I’m 1B. Where are you?”

“2B,” I reply in a daze, not quite believing this is happening. “So you’re stalking me?”

He laughs and the sound is warm and rich. “Nope, just a lucky coincidence, sweetheart.”

“Whatever,” I grumble, closing the lid on my washer and starting the cycle. 

He leans back against the washer and turns to face me, looking me up and down with a long, slow gaze.

I cross my arms in front of my chest, realizing that my nipples are poking through the thin fabric of my tank top. 

“So you talk to Madge yet? Did she back my story up?” he asks, surprising me by not making a comment about my body or lack of clothes.

“Yeah, congratulations, you’re not total scum. You are, however, still a douchebag.”

He puts his hand over his heart and feigns being wounded. “Come on darling, you know I didn’t two-time your friend now. Can’t you ease up on me a little?”

“No,” I return stubbornly. I like seeing him grovel for my attention and approval, I realize. He should have to work for something for once in his life.

“Ah, I see. You like to play hard to get,” he grins, his smile revealing a dimple in his cheek, his blue eyes lighting up with amusement. 

I scoff and shake my head. “Can’t you just believe that a woman might not actually want you like that?”

“Well it hasn’t happened to me so far,” he replies with a cheeky grin.

I roll my eyes, as two blondes with obnoxiously high voices enter the laundry room. I think they live on the first floor and have ridiculous names like Glitter and Candy or something equally stupid. They both stop when they see Peeta, not even trying to be discreet as they eye him up and down, clearly liking what they see.

“Hi, I’m Glimmer and this is my roommate, Cashmere. Did you just move in?”

Peeta turns his back to me and then steps forward to shake their hands. I clench my jaw and tell myself my annoyance is because I can’t stand those girls, not because they’re so obviously hitting on Peeta.

They make small talk for a few moments, and I busy myself by looking for something so I don’t have to leave just yet even though all my clothes are in the washers. The girls are switching their clothes from the washers to the dryers and so blatantly flirting with Peeta it’s obnoxious. Like he really needs another shot to his ego.

“You should let us take you out sometime and show you the neighborhood if you just moved here,” Glimmer insists.

I feel a strong arm wrap around my waist and look up to see Peeta smiling down at me. His thumb strokes the bare skin of my hipbone exposed between my shorts and tank top. 

“Thanks for the offer girls,” he replies, only looking at me, “but Katniss here actually just offered to do that, right?”

My mouth parts and I stare back at him, amazed at how one person can be so simultaneously alluring and infuriating. My heart is beating fast at his proximity, at his arm around my body and I realize that yes, I am attracted to him, and yes, I still can’t stand him.

“Right,” I respond back through clenched teeth, offering him a falsely sweet smile.

I’d rather play along than give those two skanks the opportunity to get their claws on him and spread whatever venereal diseases they might have. 

Once the girls are gone I break away from his touch and grab my empty laundry basket. I move to grab my phone, but Peeta is there before me, snatching it right before I can get my hand on it.

“What are you doing?” I stomp my foot angrily, realizing I act like a toddler throwing a tantrum around him a lot.

He punches in a few things and then there is a buzzing coming from his pocket. He smiles and hands my phone back to me.

“There. Now you have my number and I have yours. We’ll get working on this ‘you not hating my guts’ thing, okay?” he says with a smile.

I snatch my phone out of his hand and stomp my way out of the laundry room.

“Don’t count on it,” I call over my shoulder.

X

A couple of hours later I’m folding laundry and eating dinner while watching TV. I hear a knock on the door and when I answer it, a shirtless Peeta Mellark is standing there with a brown paper bag in his hands.

My eyes are riveted to his chest. Cut and defined and strong, his stomach muscles are hard ridges divided between a dark trail of hair that disappears down below his shorts. Jesus fuck, he is beautiful. I feel the wetness gathering between my legs and I shift uncomfortably, dragging my eyes up to meet his gaze.

“What?” I snap at him, irritated that he just shows up at my door like this. My body is a traitor because my brain still knows I don’t want anything to do with him.

“Thought I’d start giving you reasons to believe that I’m not quite the asshole you think I am,” he explains, holding out the paper bag for me.

I take it from him reluctantly.

“Cheese buns,” he says. “I make them and they’re delicious. You’ll love them, I promise.”

I set the bag down on the entry table. “Uh, well thanks, I guess,” I shrug, not sure what else to say. Seeing this other side of him is throwing me for a bit of a loop again, but I don’t want to put my guard down just yet. I don’t think a tiger changes its stripes that easily.

“Um, one other thing…” he says, and his eyes darken and he takes a step closer to me.

I tense up as he places his hands on my waist and pulls me towards him. I’m locked in his gaze, helpless to do or say anything.

He dips his head and sucks on the skin at the curve of my neck, flicking his tongue and nibbling with soft bites. I gasp and it takes me a second to realize that I’m clinging to him, not pushing him away. 

He lifts his mouth to my ear and then whispers, “I can fuck pretty well too.”

He releases me and turns away, disappearing down the hall before I can even move or speak.

In a daze, I shut the door behind him and then move back to my couch and collapse against it.

Well, fuck.


	2. Chapter 2

My vibrator is going to break.

I have been pleasuring myself to images of Peeta Mellark for the past three nights, and I’m still horny as hell. I’ve been thinking about the way his lips felt against my skin and how hot his breath was when he whispered those words into my ear.

I’ve imagined his perfect chest glistening with sweat, as he fucks me into oblivion.

I hate him.

The shame and frustration I feel over letting him affect me like this is eating away at me. I can’t be fantasizing about fucking my best friend’s ex-boyfriend. Even though he didn’t cheat on her, he still hurt her, and he is the exact opposite of every guy I’ve ever been with. He’s egotistical and pushy and probably thinks he’s God’s gift to woman.

I push the thoughts away though and slide the cool, smooth surface of my vibrator over my clit. I shudder and bite down on my lip. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but imagining his rock solid body and his cocky little smirk and the way he pisses me off like no other guy I’ve ever met before just makes me even wetter.

I gasp as I move the vibrator down my folds, coating it in my arousal before pushing it inside me.

“Oh fuck!” I cry out, the light vibrations already bringing my body close to the edge.

I thrust the device inside me without my usual gentle strokes or hesitation. Peeta Mellark certainly wouldn’t fuck me gently. 

I close my eyes and picture what his cock might look like. 

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” I shout, writhing around in bed, realizing that I’ve lost any and all inhibitions. I palm my breasts and pluck at my nipples. Thinking about that stupid asshole has me so wet it’s running down my legs. 

I find myself wishing I had the real thing right here, so I could ride his cock and take what I wanted from him. 

I’m moaning uncontrollably, whimpering and feeling the tension build and build, working towards that boiling point.

“Oh god!” I scream, as I pull the vibrator out and just barely skim it across my clit. I shatter into a trembling, panting mess.

The euphoria washes over me, but quickly fades once my brain can think clearly again. The shame returns, and it upsets and infuriates me.

I get up to use the bathroom and clean up, and when I return to my bed my phone is light up with a message on my nightstand.

I read the message in disbelief.

Peeta: Guess we both like to sleep with our windows open. The sound of you fucking yourself is the hottest damn thing I’ve ever heard. I’m so fucking hard right now. 

I swallow thickly and squirm, as I realize I’m actually getting wet again.

I hesitate for a second and run my fingers over the screen of my phone, contemplating my answer.

I’m about to type out a message telling him to get up here and fuck my brains out when he sends another text.

Peeta: I bet you were thinking about my cock just now, huh? How bad do you want me?

Just like that, my annoyance and irritation flare up again, overpowering any attraction I feel for him.

I shoot him back a response.

Katniss: Don’t flatter yourself. Your cock has nothing on my vibrator. Good night.

I try to fall asleep, thinking about Peeta Mellark, and everything I hate, and grudgingly like about him.

X

“I think the universe is trying to tell us something.”

I spin on my heels and find Peeta Mellark standing there dressed in a suit. I bite my lip and take in his attire. Fuck, he looks good.

“What? That you’re officially stalking me?”

He laughs and moves beside me, leaning against the bar. “Nope, just another happy coincidence. My friend dragged me to this charity thing tonight because his girlfriend is out of town. How did you get stuck coming?”

“My boss insisted,” I reply through gritted teeth, looking around the room for any signs of Haymitch. Maybe once I see him and show him I actually came and made an effort I can get the hell out of here.

“Well, either way I’m happy to see you.”

I feel something flutter in my stomach and I glance over at Peeta, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. It’s been almost two weeks since our little text conversation, and I haven’t heard or seen him since.

A couple of times I was even tempted to drop by his place or shoot him a message, but I must have been losing my mind. Apparently I just got too used to his flirting and attention. 

I open my mouth when something jostles me from behind. I stumble forward a few steps, Peeta’s hands reaching out to steady me. The strength and warmth of his touch registers more than anything.

I turn around to find a guy who looks like he should still be doing keg stands in college gaping at me. 

“Oh fuck, my bad.” He’s hammered and staring at my tits. “Sorry girl, let me buy you a drink,” he leers at me, reaching out to run a hand up and down my arm. “You’re fucking hot, you know that?” 

I flinch in disgust and pull my arm away from his grasp. I’m about to tell him to fuck off when I feel a pair of warm arms circle my waist.

“Back off dude,” I hear Peeta say from behind me, “she’s with me.” The guy’s eyes go wide, and he immediately steps back and holds his hands up in a placating gesture.

“Damn alright, chill out,” he says, muttering something nasty under his breath before walking away.

I force myself to pull away from Peeta’s arms and turn around to face him, crossing my arms in front of my chest.

“Another reason not to hate my guts,” he smiles. “I’m good at fending off assholes like that.” 

Before I can say anything, he grabs my hand and pulls me out towards the dance floor. I think about resisting for a moment, but I don’t want to look childish and immature by running away from him.

He pulls me into his arms, one hand pressing against my lower back so our bodies are flush, and using his other hand to cup my own, softly rubbing the pad of his thumb against my palm.

“I can also dance pretty well too,” he whispers in my ear, bringing back memories of a few weeks ago, when he kissed my neck and told me about his other talents.

I take a deep shuddering breath and try to regain my composure. I force myself to think about this objectively, and not get lost in a haze of lust and desire from the feel of his hands on me and his body close to mine.

“Why are you doing this?” I whisper right back. “What do you want from me?”

He pulls back to look at me, studying my face with the most serious expression I’ve ever seen from him.

“You have no idea, do you?”

I frown at his cryptic question and try another approach. “Okay, maybe you aren’t a bad guy, but I usually don’t go for the arrogant, charming dude who can get a girl in bed with just a few words.”

He laughs and when he grins at me the sight almost takes my breath away. He is so beautiful it hurts.

“You should stop fighting it, sweetheart,” he tells me with a pleased look. “I already heard through my open window how much you want it,” he waggles his eyebrows suggestively.

I scowl at him. “That doesn’t help your case,” I say, pulling away from him.

He tugs me back to him. “Okay, you’re right, I’m sorry.”

I soften a bit at his apology. We sway to the music together for a few moments in silence, and I actually find myself relaxing, melting into his touch. I take a deep breath and rest my head against his shoulder. I can feel him suck in a breath, and I can’t help the small thrill at the thought I can affect him like that. 

“There’s still Madge,” I whisper after a few moments of silence.

He stiffens at the mention of her name.

“Look, it’s been six months and yeah, we didn’t end on the best of terms, but I was honest and upfront with her. We would have broken up eventually anyways with her moving across the country.”

I listen to the urgency and openness in his words, like he’s almost pleading with me to see his side of things, to not hold that against him forever.

I decide to push the Madge thing off to the side and out of my head for the time being. I’ll deal with it if and when the time comes when I would need to tell her about this. About whatever the hell is going on between Peeta Mellark and me.

“You don’t even know anything about me,” I offer up one of my last and feeble protests. It’s getting harder and harder to deny this thing between us.

“So then give me the chance to,” he implores. 

I pull back and search his face. I don’t know quite yet what to make of this handsome, charismatic, and at times pompous man standing in front of me. I can’t quite seem to figure him out. 

I open my mouth to say something when we’re interrupted.

“Katniss, there you are.”

Haymitch, my boss, saunters up to me, cocktail in hand, looking as pleased as I am to be at one of these fancy charity things. He glances over at Peeta briefly, who has released me from his arms, but thankfully doesn’t say anything to embarrass me.

“Come on, we got to go make small talk with some investors. Let’s hurry up so we can get the hell out of here,” he grumbles, turning and expecting me to follow him without another word.

I turn back to Peeta, who just smiles and waves me away.

“Thanks for the dance.” 

He leans in to kiss my cheek and then turns and walks away, leaving me feeling like we didn’t quite yet cross the bridge that we needed to.

X

Is this a date? Are we on a date?

Fuck.

I glance over at Peeta sitting beside me on my couch, while the movie flickers on in the background, illuminating the dark room.

He stopped by to drop off some more cheese buns—I texted him and told him how much I enjoyed them the other day—and somehow I ended up inviting him in to watch a movie with me.

We’re sitting close to each other on the couch, but not too close. He hasn’t tried to put the moves on me or give me any indication that he’s interested in anything other than the Will Ferrell movie playing on my TV.

I let my eyes roam over his side profile—the straight nose, the full bottom lip, his defined jaw line—and try not to be too obvious about it.

He moves his head like he’s going to glance in my direction, and I snap my eyes forward, determined not to get caught.

Shit. Fuck. Shit. Fuck.

I’m kind of over playing hard to get at this point. I don’t really care anymore that he’s probably not Prince Charming, and that he probably makes every girl he sets his sights on drop her panties with little to no effort. 

I want to fuck. I want him inside me. 

I take a deep, steadying breath and then place my hand on his arm. He looks over at me curiously, and I hold his gaze for a moment before looking at his lips.

I move in slowly, wanting to pull his bottom lip between mine and suck. 

When I’m no more than an inch away, however, he turns his head away, stopping me completely.

I’m shocked. 

I gape at him for a moment, totally stunned before I pull away, my face heating in embarrassment.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” I mutter, slapping a hand to my forehead.

“Katniss…” he begins in a patronizing voice that makes me want to punch him in the face.

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” I snap. “Just get the fuck out. I get it alright, you fucking work on me until I give in and get to the point where I actually want you, and then you pull the rug out from under me just to make me feel like a fucking idiot.”

“Katniss,” he says again, this time his tone a little harsher. I can’t look at him though.

“Get out,” I try again, but I’ve lost any real anger to my voice. 

Before I know it, I’m flat on my back, laid out along the couch, Peeta settled between my legs.

“Just shut up for a minute,” he says, his hands moving to my gym shorts and tugging them down my legs. 

I gasp, my heart starting to beat frantically out of my chest as I’m left in nothing but my thin cotton panties. He slides his own athletic shorts to the floor and then repositions himself between my legs again. 

He dips his head to kiss that same sweet spot along my neck, sucking the skin, before palming my breast in his large hand.

“You think I don’t want this?” He hums into my ear, his rock hard cock pressing against me, the heat of him and the friction from our underwear making me cry out in pleasure.

He pushes against me, his dick rubbing against my folds through the thin fabric that still covers each of us. The way he moves his hips is so hot and sensual, hitting my clit just right. My legs wrap around the back of his thighs, and I follow his rhythm, rocking into him with a blind lust. 

I have never enjoyed dry humping so fucking much.

He moves his hand down my body and slips it inside my panties, seeking out my clit and rubbing it mercilessly.

“Peeta!” I scream, ready to come undone.

“I love hearing you say my name,” he breathes, biting down on my ear lobe. “Love feeling how fucking wet I make you,” he hums. 

“Oh god,” I whine as the coil inside me twists impossibly tighter.

I come so hard that it takes me minute to realize he’s pushed his boxers down past his hips and now his—holyfuckingshit—perfect cock is sliding against the soaked material of my underwear.

He’s rubbing against my folds, the wet layer of cotton creating an exquisite friction and the feel of him, hard and hot and heavy against me, makes my eyes roll to the back of my head.

“Is this what you want?” he growls, palming my breast again and making me yelp. “You want my fucking cock?”

My back bows as I jut my hips towards him; the hollow, aching, and empty feeling of him not being inside me right now is driving me mad. 

“Is that what your needy little clit wants?” he says, as his hips start to thrust against me frantically.

I cry out, shuddering as my second orgasm washes over me, even more intense than the first. I watch through heavy eyes as Peeta pulls away and cups himself, spilling into his hand.

He cleans himself off and pulls his shorts back on in record time. I still feel drunk and lethargic, unable to do anything but stare at him curiously.

He pulls away from me and sits up, not even looking in my direction.

Something twists inside me painfully, and I push it down, determined to ignore it. I knew what this was before it started.

“Don’t feel like you have to stay until the movie is over,” I force out, trying to play it cool. “We both got what we wanted I guess.”

He shoots me a wounded look and confusion sweeps over me. 

“Yeah, I guess,” he murmurs unhappily.

“What?” I shoot back defensively. “You wouldn’t even kiss me first. I don’t expect you to stay and cuddle with me. I don’t need your pity.”

“I didn’t kiss you first, because when I kiss you I want it to be real. I want more from you than just a quick, easy fuck, Katniss.”

The words shock me, literally snap the awareness right back into me, my heart beating a mile a minute. I sit up and look at him carefully.

My mouth opens, but no sound comes out. 

He shakes his head and then leans over to give me a kiss on the cheek. When he moves to get up from the couch, I grab his arm.

“Where are you going?”

He looks at me in disbelief. “You just told me not to hang around,” he says plainly. “What do you want from me?”

I hesitate, trying to sort out the war of emotions going through me.

I must take too long to answer though, because he gets up from the couch.

“Don't worry. I won't get my hopes up that you want the same thing from me that I want from you,” he says with a sad smile.

He walks out of my apartment, leaving me alone with this huge revelation.

Peeta Mellark is not who I thought he was. At all.


	3. Chapter 3

A week goes by.

I don’t reach out to him. I don’t know what I would say if I did. 

I think about him constantly.

I think about his touch, his cock, the way he made my body feel. I have closed my eyes and pleasured myself to the memory of our dry humping session on the couch more than once.

But I also think about what he said.

That he wants me. That he wants something real between us.

Every time I think about this I feel short of breath, a stab of anxiety in my chest. 

Peeta Mellark doesn’t just want to fuck me. 

Things probably would have been easier if he was who I thought he was. He would have worn me down, we would have fucked by now, and he would have gotten me out of his system. He would have moved on, and I would be left to deal with the guilt of sleeping with Madge’s ex-boyfriend.

Maybe it actually wouldn’t have been easier that way. But at least it would have been a lot less complicated.

The thing that scares me most of all with this whole situation is that there is a part of me that is crazy enough to want to take the risk. There is a part of me that wants to throw caution to the wind and really see what this thing between him and me could be.

But I’m still scared. Still overwhelmed by how intense things are between us. How attracted I am to him. How much he can piss me off. How I can be so affected by him.

The first time I see him since our hook up is at the gym attached to our apartment complex.

He’s running on the treadmill, and if he sees me across the room when I walk in he doesn’t let it show. 

I do 30 minutes on the elliptical in the row of machines behind where he’s at, and by the time I get done he’s still running.

After a few exercises on different machines I head to the drinking fountain to refill my water bottle. 

When I finish and turn around, I nearly jump back, startled to find him standing behind me.

“Um, hi,” I stammer out, my heart beating a frantic pace from his proximity. He is drenched in sweat, his hair curling in an adorable way at the ends that makes me want to run my hands through it.

“Hey,” he says curtly, lips pursed in a thin line, not quite meeting my eyes.

I step away from the fountain and try to gather my wits about me, but before I can even say anything he moves past me and bends over for a drink of water.

I frown unhappily, not liking that he’s just going to pretend there isn’t this thing hanging between us.

When he stands up from his sip of water, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and glances over at me.

“See you,” he nods in my direction before walking away. 

And I’m left standing there, feeling more alone and confused than before.

X

The next week drags on.

I’m relaxing on my couch, eating dinner and watching TV one night after work, when I hear a rustling at my front door. 

I mute the TV and turn to get a better look at my entryway. There are several pieces of mail being slid under the door.

I stand up and make my way over there, grabbing the mail and opening the door.

Only I don’t find anyone standing there. I step out into the hall and look both ways, getting a glimpse of the back of a blonde head about to head down the stairs for the first floor.

“Hey!” I call out, causing him to turn around and look in my direction.

Peeta is standing less than 20 feet from me, but it feels like a much greater distance.

“You couldn’t just knock on my door?” I ask indignantly.

He shrugs, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “What’s it matter? You’d get it either way. Your mail keeps ending up in my box.”

I flinch, like someone literally just punched me in the gut. I scowl at him and steel my resolve.

“Yeah, I guess it doesn’t matter. Why be forced to actually have to talk to me?”

I am fuming at this point, even more furious when I recognize the stinging behind my eyes and the lump in my throat as signs that I might actually start crying.

“Katniss…” he says in a gentler tone, but at this point I don’t want to hear it.

I stomp back towards my apartment and slam the door behind me.

X

Apparently though it’s not easy to stay mad at Peeta Mellark.

The next day I see him in the lobby helping Sae carry up her groceries to the first floor. He shoots me a look that says he wants to talk to me, to say something about the other day, but I don’t give him the chance.

Two days later he’s out in front of the building on the small grassy patch near the sidewalk, kicking a soccer ball around with Sae’s granddaughter. He shows her how to kick it and chases her around playfully, picking her up and throwing her over his shoulder with ease. Her long dark hair flowing in the wind and the sound of her shrieks of laughter pulls at my heartstrings. 

He was never the asshole I thought he was. He’s better than most guys I know. 

Every day that passes melts away the reluctance that is still there holding me back from reaching out to him, seeing where things could lead between the two of us.

And then one night, I hear through my window the enthusiastic sounds of a female in the throes of passion coming from his apartment below mine.

For one horrifying moment I want to cry, my gut twisting in agony at the thought of him with someone else.

And then I hear a man’s voice that sounds nothing like Peeta’s, telling the woman to ‘suck his cock.’ The pieces fall into place and the more I listen the more I recognize the obvious sounds of porn I’m hearing.

I relax a little, reassured that Peeta isn’t with one of those skanks down the hall right now. I close my eyes and picture him naked and hard, working his hand up and down that perfect cock of his with long, slow pulls.

I clench my thighs together at the rush of heat that image causes between my legs.

My hands slip inside my panties, and then I make myself come thinking about him getting himself off.

X

We run into each other in the parking complex the next day. The parking garage is underneath the first floor of our building

“Hey.” I catch up to him as we make our way towards the elevators.

“Um, hey,” he says warily, like he’s not quite sure what to expect from me.

He presses the button for the elevator, and I watch him carefully. I’ve missed being able to study him like this. He is so easy to look at. He’s wearing jeans that hug his ass perfectly and a white tee that clings to his broad shoulders.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” I hear myself say before I can think better about it.

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and he tries to play it cool but I can tell how secretly pleased he is from this news.

“Oh yeah?” he replies with just a hint of a smile, the barest amount of pleased amusement in his eyes.

The elevator signals it’s arrived, and we step in together. He presses the first and second buttons for each of our floors. When the door closes, I turn to him.

I hesitate for just a moment before deciding that I need to throw caution to the wind. I can't stop thinking of him, and I might as well tell him.

I reach out and place a hand on his arm tentatively. He looks down at my hand on his arm and then back to me, confusion apparent on his face.

“I’ve been thinking about you…with my hand between my legs,” I whisper, suddenly feeling shy. I duck my head and feel the heat blossom on my cheeks.

The elevator stops, signaling we’re at Peeta’s floor.

He still hasn’t said anything, and when I look up at him, he’s staring down at the floor, clearly conflicted.

He looks up at me and shoots me a weak, half-hearted smile. The disappointment is clear as day on his face.

“Guess that makes me pretty damn lucky,” he says, but I can see how he has to force the words out. “That’s a beautiful mental image,” he adds, and then leans forward to place a chaste kiss on my cheek before stepping out of the elevator onto his floor.

When the doors close behind him I’m left standing there to consider what just happened. While instinct tells me I should be hurt or even mad about him brushing me off like that, I can’t help but think about how sad and disappointed he just looked.

It dawns on me that telling him I thought about him when I got myself off last night probably only reaffirmed him thinking I don’t want anything more from him than a quick fuck. 

The elevator opens onto my floor, and I step off and walk towards my apartment door. 

When I get inside, I throw my things down, feeling anxious and upset that Peeta and I can’t seem to get this thing right between us. 

It hits me in that moment with startling clarity. I want more from him than sex. I want him. All of him.

I pace around my living room for a bit, my stomach in knots

Why did I do that? Why couldn’t I have just talked to him like a normal person? 

With a jolt I realize that mostly it’s because I’m scared. Scared that he makes me feel more than anyone else ever has and it’s easier to reduce what’s between us to just sex without the complication of feelings.

There’s a knock on the door, and I jump, racing over to it and throwing it open.

Peeta stands there looking distraught. He is shuffling back and forth, unable to stand still. He looks like he’s not sure if he wants to charge me or run away as fast as he can.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he finally says, running a hand through his hair. “I’m going crazy. I want you. I need you. And I will take you however I can get you.”

He steps into my apartment and takes my face between his hands and kisses me with so much passion that I actually whimper and feel my knees buckle just a little.

He slides an arm around my waist to keep me standing and pulls away just barely, so that when he whispers I can still feel his lips brushing against my own.

“Do you want me to fuck you?”

I bite down on my lip and nod my head slowly.

Fuck, I have never wanted anything more.

“Do you want to ride my cock?” he asks, letting his hands drop down to palm my ass, pulling me against his erection. The arousal pools between my legs and it’s hard to think clearly.

He steps into my apartment, shuts the door, and lifts me up into his arms, forcing me to wind my legs around his waist. He turns and presses me against the back of my door, returning his mouth to mine again in a heated frenzy of lips and tongues and teeth.

I moan and start rocking my hips against him, grinding down against the very obvious bulge in his jeans. 

“Oh fuck,” I whimper, as the friction stimulates my clit just right.

He moves his lips to my neck and kisses a trail along the column of my throat. “At least I’m good for something right?”

My stomach twists uncomfortably at his words. He returns his lips to mine and kisses me before I can say or do anything else. He’s exploring my mouth with his tongue and rocking his hips into me in just the right way, making me wet and needy and desperate for him to be inside me.

But I can’t push those words out of my head.

At least I’m good for something.

Before I know it, Peeta is walking towards my bedroom with me in his arms, laying me down on the bed and stripping his shirt off. I look up at him in a daze of lust and desire.

He goes straight for the button on my jeans and starts to tug my pants down my legs. I help him by throwing my shirt off to the side, while he drops his own jeans to the floor before joining me on the bed.

He lies beside me and leans down to kiss me softly, palming my breast in his hand over the fabric of my bra before moving his hand down lower. He slips past my panties and deftly strokes my clit.

“Fuck, I want to be inside you,” he whispers into my ear.

I keen and grasp his bicep, digging my nails into his skin as he gets me wetter and more ready for him.

He pulls my panties off while I work on my bra and then he’s kissing me again with a desperate edge. “First, I’ll make you come with my mouth. And then I’ll slide inside you and fuck you as hard as you want it.”

I gasp for air, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. He kisses along my jawline and then behind my ear and down my throat.

“Katniss…” he whispers against my skin, and the sound is so soft and pleading and desperate that it returns me to myself.

At least I’m good for something.

I can’t let this happen. Not like this.

“Peeta,” I say urgently, pulling him back towards me. I grab his face between my hands and force him to look at me. 

When his clear blue eyes meet mine, I see the nervousness and confusion as he waits for me to say something, gently rubbing his hand up and down my arm.

“What?” he asks, eyes drifting away, as if he’s afraid to hold my gaze, afraid of what I might say.

“I want you,” I whisper, the words leaving me in a rush. 

One side of his mouth turns up in a crooked smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He bends down to kiss me, but doesn’t say anything else.

“No, Peeta,” I break away from his lips. “I want you.”

I trail my hands down over his broad shoulders and down his muscular arms. “I want you,” I repeat, willing him to understand because I’ve never been very good with words. “I want this. I want us. I want to see where this could go.”

He doesn’t say any anything for a long moment, and my stomach turns with anxiety. I finally force myself to drag my eyes up to his gaze. His expression is completely blank and unreadable.

I bite my lip and reach up to cup his face, gently stroking his cheekbone and the ridge of his brow with my thumb. “Say something,” I plead.

“Are you sure?” 

His face nearly breaks me. He looks so unsure and afraid almost, eyebrows pinched together, lips pursed in contemplation. His voice isn’t the strong, smooth tone of the Peeta I thought I knew—the Peeta who could piss me off and sweet talk a woman into anything. It’s gentle and calm, hesitant and hopeful. 

“Yes.”

I throw my arms around his neck and pull him down to me. This kiss is different than all the other ones we’ve shared. It’s full of this buzzing current between us that we have something real and tangible now. It’s not just lust anymore. 

My heart starts beating a frantic pace at the thought. The realization of what I just did, what we are now, fills me with a happy, nervous energy.

I wrap my legs around his waist and pull him against me until our hips are flush.

He’s still in his boxers, and my arousal soaks his underwear. I moan and gyrate my hips against him.

“Please,” I beg, breaking away for air. I need to feel him inside me. 

“Do you—?”

“Nightstand,” I inform him before he can finish asking.

By the time he gets his boxers off and the condom rolled down, I’m panting. I grab at the sheets by my head and twist, clinging to them as my legs part and fall to the side, baring myself completely to him.

He settles into the space between my hips and grabs his cock, flicking his tip against my clit a few times and trailing the length of my folds, coating himself in my arousal before positioning himself at my entrance. 

“Peeta,” I gasp, placing my feet flat on the bed and jutting my hips towards him as he slides in the first few inches.

“Fuck,” he groans, grabbing both my hands and pining me to the bed. As if I weren’t already completely at his mercy. As if I weren’t already completely his.

He thrusts all the way inside me with one quick motion of his hips and I cry out, overwhelmed by his size, at how full I feel.

He leans down to start kissing my neck and chest, letting me adjust to the welcome intrusion. He is so deep, the biggest I’ve ever had. I tell him so with breathless pants in his ear.

“Katniss…” he whines, a helpless plea that makes me grin.

“Make me yours,” I beg, circling my hips, encouraging him to move.

He releases my hands and sits back on his heels, gripping my waist to pull me into his lap. My back arches in this position, and he hits an entirely new angle inside of me.

“So beautiful,” he gasps, pulling me down against his cock and letting his hand trail up to cup my breast. 

I place my hand on top of his and encourage his gentle kneading. When I lock eyes with him, the coil of pleasure burns even hotter and tighter between us. His mouth is slack, his body covered in a fine sheen of sweat, his hair plastered to his forehead. I let my eyes wander down his chest and the bunching of his tensed stomach muscles as he pumps away.

“Oh God, Peeta!” I cry, grinding down against his pelvis to stimulate my clit. I press my head into the bed and throw my arms up against my headboard, using it as leverage to push down on his cock.

“Fuck me,” I whimper, feeling like I somehow need him even deeper.

He shifts and pulls my legs in front of him so my ankles come to rest on his shoulders, his hands wrapping around the front of thighs to hold on to me. When he starts pounding into me again, it’s harder and faster than before.

“Like that. Take it, baby.”

I scream, teetering on the edge, so overwhelmed by him and the euphoric pleasure.

My orgasm crashes over me like a wave, and I clench around him, reduced to boneless, weightless ecstasy. 

I’m still trembling from the aftershocks when I realize he’s dropped my legs and has leaned down over me, pressing soft kisses on my eyelids and cheeks and neck. He’s rocking against me slowly, pulling almost all the way out and then sliding in to the hilt and circling his hips so I can feel him everywhere.

I tremble and wrap my arms around his sweaty, muscular back.

“Never thought I’d actually get to have you like this,” he whispers in my ear. “You’re better than I ever imagined.”

He punctuates his words with soft kisses and licks and nibbles on and near my ear.

“I wanted this,” he stays, his fingers moving between my legs and searching out my still sensitive clit. I gasp as he rubs me gently at first, letting me acclimate to the pleasure again. “But I wanted you more,” and then he bears down and circles it deliberately, simultaneously pumping into me with shallow, frantic thrusts. 

I can feel both of our orgasms rising like the tide, ready to crash over us with powerful force.

I want to savor this moment forever, share this intimacy and pleasure as long as it will last. But when he leans down to kiss me, so soft and sweet and gentle, we both succumb to our bodies’ wills and climax together.

I have been ripped open and left exposed. I am trembling. I have never felt like this before. Never felt so overwhelmed by the physical act of love. What we just shared diminishes anything from my past. I never knew it could be like this. I’m almost scared by how much it has affected me, wondering if anything can ever be the same again.

I tighten my hold on him, not wanting to let go, not wanting this moment to end. 

He tries to pull away once, but I don’t let him.

Eventually he insists, reminding me of the condom, and for those few moments his body is separate from mine it feels foreign and lonely.

I hold out my arms to him as he returns to the bed.

Our legs tangle together. My head fits perfectly into the crook of his shoulder. He strokes my back. I kiss his skin. Eventually we fall asleep like that. So tangled up together, it’s impossible to think of being separate. 

X

When I wake the other side of the bed is cold. 

When I remember last night, and realize that he’s not lying next to me, I shoot up in bed, my heart starting to beat wildly in panic. 

And then I hear noise coming from outside my room. I crawl out of bed and throw on his white t-shirt that just barely reaches the tops of my thighs to cover my naked body. I tiptoe out into the living room and catch sight of him in the kitchen.

He’s wearing nothing but his boxers and his back is to me, facing the stove. On the counter beside him is a stack of pancakes. I can hear the sizzling sound of bacon or sausage frying in a pan. I quietly approach, until he senses my presence and turns around.

His smile is breathtaking. He abandons whatever he’s cooking and moves to take me in his arms, leaning down to kiss me so reverently my chest aches. He kisses me long and slow and sweet. His hands grasp at my waist, fingers pressing into me, holding me tighter and pulling me closer. 

His tongue seeks entrance to my mouth, and I allow it. He tastes me, moves over my lips and teeth and tongue so expertly and sensually I can feel the wetness start to gather between my legs.

When we finally break away, I am breathless.

“I made you breakfast,” he informs me.

I can’t help my grin. “I see that.”

His mouth descends on that sweet spot behind my ear. I tilt my head back and hold on to him as his hands slide down my sides, past my hips to where his t-shirt ends. He finds the bare skin of my legs, and I shiver from his touch.

“I think I want to eat first though,” he hums in my ear.

I don’t even have a moment to ponder what he means before he lifts me up and places me on the kitchen table. He pushes my—his—shirt up past my breasts, leaving me completely and totally exposed to him. Then he pulls up a chair and settles himself. He holds my legs apart, and I can barely keep myself propped up on my elbows at the ravenous look in his eyes.

He leans down and laps at me with long, broad strokes of his tongue. He traces my folds, wet sucking sounds from his lips and tongue meeting my arousal.

I cry out and reach for his blonde curls, tugging at the ends as he finds my clit and starts to suck it into his mouth.

“Goddamn you taste good,” he says, before sucking two fingers into his mouth and then pushing them inside me.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” I whine helplessly, rocking my hips against his hand, reveling in the feeling of being penetrated.

He curls his fingers just right and returns his mouth to my clit.

I arms finally give and I fall back, my head thumping against the table with a loud thud that I know should hurt, but it doesn’t. 

He adds another finger and starts to pump inside me faster and harder, his mouth never leaving my clit. With his free hand, he reaches up and palms my breast, kneading the soft mound with deliberate movements.

“Peeta! Oh my god!” My legs tighten around his head, and I come so hard I can’t see straight for a moment.

I’m vaguely aware of Peeta pulling me into his lap, cradling my body against his and pressing kisses across my cheeks and down my neck. 

“Now you can eat,” he whispers in my ear with a little chuckle.

X

We should probably talk at some point.

The thought flits across my mind for half a second, but I can’t really focus on it, can’t really consider it fully. I’m too preoccupied with fucking Peeta at the moment

“Your pussy feels so good,” Peeta growls, hands on my hips, guiding my rhythmic motions as I rock against him up and down on his cock. 

He leans back against the couch, his mouth hanging open, watching my breasts bounce.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Peeta groans, almost like he’s in pain. He reaches out and finds my clit, suddenly rubbing it in tight, hard circles. 

I dissolve into nothing but pure sensation that breaks me down until I’m trembling. He finishes with a few more frantic, hard pumps and then goes still.

He holds me against him, and then I move off of him so he can dispose of the condom and clean up. He returns to me with a warm wet washcloth and wipes between my legs gently. Then he pulls me against him and lies out along the couch, throwing a blanket over our naked bodies.

We should probably talk now. The thought pops up again, and for some reason a jolt of nervousness runs through me. I take a deep breath and try to push it down, telling myself there is nothing to worry about. We said more last night with our actions than we could with words. We’re both in this for more than sex.

“So, umm…”

“I was thinking…”

I laugh as we both speak up at the same time. “Go ahead,” I insist.

He grabs my hand and brings it to his lips, pressing a kiss to my palm. The gesture is so sweet and tender that I have to bite my lip at the surge of emotion it invokes.

“So…I just want you to know how much last night…and this morning…have meant to me,” he begins. “I care about you a lot, Katniss.”

I smile and lean up to kiss him softly. “I care about you too,” I tell him honestly. “I meant what I said last night. I want this. There’s something between us here, and I realized it was pointless to keep fighting it.”

He laughs and runs his hand up and down my back, making me shiver. “I’m glad you feel that way. I could only keep up the asshole persona for so long.”

“Oh, that was all just an act?” I tease him, trailing my nails over his stomach muscles.

“Yeah, I could see how much it turned you on, so I ran with it.”

I laugh, burying my head against his chest.

“But seriously,” I say, once my giggles have calmed down, “I’m really glad we’re doing this, that we aren’t just fucking. It will make it easier—”

I hesitate when I realize what I was about to say. 

It will make it easier to explain to Madge. Thoughts of my friend come crashing down on me for the first time since Peeta stepped into my apartment and kissed me last night. It was all too easy to block out that little detail in my mind when all I could think about was how much I wanted him. All I could think about was how good he felt and how sweet his lips tasted.

He must feel me tense up, because he uses a finger to tilt my chin up towards him, forcing me to look at him.

“Katniss…there’s something I need to tell you.”

I look at him curiously, a nervous, anxious feeling starting to form in my chest. I push it away, determined not to think the worst.

He takes a deep breath. One hand tangles in my hair and the other interlaces his fingers with my own.

“When I ended things with Madge…” he looks down at our hands clasped together, “I told her there was someone else, and I wasn’t lying.”

I try to pull away, but he won’t let me. “So what? You lied to me and you did actually cheat on her?” I can feel the panic and hysteria slowly start to descend on me, threatening to make me lose it.

“No!” Peeta insists vehemently, calming me somewhat. “I never cheated on her. I would never do that. Not to her. Not to anyone.”

“Okay, so…”

“Katniss…you were the someone else. It has always been you. It was you since I first laid eyes on you.”

My breath catches, and I stare up at him in disbelief.

“Just those few times we hung out I couldn’t shake how attracted to you I was, how much I wanted you. I felt like I might as well have cheated on Madge. It felt like such a betrayal to her, but I couldn’t help it.” He smiles and shakes his head. “I knew it wasn’t going to happen though. I knew I wasn’t going to be able to just end things with Madge and then ask you out on a date. I realized Madge and I were headed down this road eventually though, so I ended things with her and figured she at least deserved to hear the truth. Then she went to school and I moved back home for a while to help my dad at the bakery. My mom just passed, so he’s still adjusting to running it by himself.”

I’m speechless, completely caught off guard by this revelation, even though I guess if I’m being honest, I was pretty attracted to him when we first met too.

Of course I felt like a complete traitor having those kinds of thoughts about my friend’s boyfriend though, so I pushed them to the back of my mind and simply ignored them, pretended he didn’t affect me.

But now, thinking back…there were more than a few moments where I remember the tension between us. He would hold my gaze a moment longer than necessary. I would brush up against him not so innocently.

I’m jolted back to the current moment when Peeta cups my face, looking down at me with concern.

“Say something,” he pleads.

I don’t know what to say though, so I settle for leaning up and capturing his lips in a kiss. 

“I’m glad,” I whisper when we break away. “I’m glad that you waited. Things couldn’t have worked between us any other way.”

“You were worth waiting for,” he replies without hesitation, trailing his knuckles down my cheek.

I bite my lip to hold back the emotions, wondering how I ever got him so wrong.


End file.
